


BTS - First argument with J-Hope

by Insfiringyou



Series: Headcanon Masterlist [56]
Category: K-pop, bts, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Mentions of Sex, Smut, Suspected Cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 08:47:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19884868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insfiringyou/pseuds/Insfiringyou
Summary: Contains: Arguments. Angst. Fluff. Jealousy. Suspicions of cheating. Mentions of sex.Although this can be enjoyed on its own, we imagine the reader here to be Nana, J-hope’s headcanon girlfriend and set around one and a half months after they first meet.We have listed all of J-Hope's headcanon fics here in order if you wish to read: https://insfiringyou.tumblr.com/post/185247221066/bts-j-hope-headcanon-fics-all-of-our-ongoing





	BTS - First argument with J-Hope

You spread the sheet of pasta over the chopped vegetables in a numb haze, working on autopilot as you waited for the oven to heat to the correct temperature. Hoseok had texted ten minutes before, informing you that he would be arriving in an hour, but it remained unanswered. Your cell sat uselessly on the kitchen table you had cleared for the evening, banishing the workbooks you had attempted to mark to the confines of a low, oak cupboard. Although the maths problems your class had been working on were simple and straightforward, you had been unable to concentrate on the task at hand and instead turned to the lasagne. 

If you had been in the right frame of mind, the thought of making dinner for him now would have struck you as ridiculous after what he had done to you but you carried on regardless, going through the motions as though on autopilot, unable to find the right words to cancel the arranged date. 

The memory of your lunch break at work came flashing back as you tucked the pasta layer into the edges of the glass container and slipped it into the oven. You felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment. While you usually ate lunch in your classroom, the soup you had brought today required the use of the old microwave in the staff room and you sensed the change in atmosphere as soon as you stepped through the door, a hushed lull falling over the the room. Seo-yeon, a teacher around your own age who was clutching an Ipad, refused to meet your eye as you walked around the jumble of chairs. A male colleague, a couple of years older than you both, was perched beside her reading the article on screen from over her shoulder. His eyes flashed cautiously from the tablet to yours before looking away entirely. Unable to help your curiosity you joined them, clutching your Tupperware container of minestrone tightly as you peered at the screen. 

“What are you reading?” You enquired, leaning over. 

“Oh, nothing.” Seo-yeon’s reply was swifter than her awkward movement and you caught a glimpse of the headline before she had time to turn off the screen. Your felt your stomach curl in a knot as you straightened up, trying to hide your emotions.Your colleague, realising her mistake and that you had seen the article, looked at you with a mixture of guilt and pity as you walked calmly over to the microwave. 

You tried to smile as you slipped the container onto the glass stand and started the timer, facing away from your colleagues. “Minestrone for lunch…” You called, as cheerfully as you could manage despite the loud pounding in your ears as your heart sped up unpleasantly. It felt as though every pair of eyes in the room were burning into the back of your cardigan as you watched the timer count down to 0. 

They all knew about you and Hoseok. How couldn’t they? He picked you up from work in his green car whenever he could and would often get out to say hello or wave politely to the other teachers as they streamed out of the building. Nevertheless, you cursed yourself for being so open with your colleagues about your relationship so soon. Everything had felt so wonderfully uncomplicated from the moment you met him in the park, just over a month before, that you had no reason to doubt his sincerity when he told you how much he liked you; how he had never felt so comfortable with anyone before and how he thought you were amazing. His adoration for you had never seemed anything but genuine and if you had initially had any suspicions about his motives, they had dissolved the moment he asked you to be his girlfriend, the day after meeting you.

You somehow managed to make it through the afternoon but refused to stay in the school building any later than you had to. Arriving home, the first thing you did after removing your cardigan was to find the article on your cell phone so you could read it for yourself. It didn’t take long the find; it was the second most popular story of the day on your news feed and your heart sank as you skimmed through the text and took in the accompanying photographs. Unable to stop yourself, you followed the link at the bottom of the page, claiming to have updates on the story, and added a little extra sprinkle of torture to your already stinging heart.

Hoseok had been confirmed to be dating his stylist. Her name and age appeared on the screen followed by a series of photographs, taken at long range, of them together in a car park outside the groups’ shared apartment complex. They were walking side by side through the empty lot, him smiling down at her and her body twisting to gaze up at him above her round framed glasses. The second article, titled ‘MORE EVIDENCE’ provided screenshots of her Instagram account which supposedly contained a series of hidden clues to their relationship. Your eyes scanned her covered body in the profile picture, petite and slender in all senses of the word except for her shapely hips and bust which seemed to strain against the confines of her long sweater. With a sinking heart, you suddenly became aware of your own figure, tall and shapeless in your light blue denim dress. 

You had never thought of yourself as sexy before you met Hoseok; you had stood heads above your peers by the time you were twelve and, while your mom reassured that you were probably going to be a late bloomer in the breast and hip department, it soon became apparent that the puberty gods had decided to bypass you almost entirely. Nevertheless, when Hoseok put his hands on you, your body seemed to come alive with desire, melting into his touch; your long limbs twisting and tangling with his own. His mouth and tongue caressed your small, bud-like breasts with so much lust you forgot ever feeling insecure about them, and your lanky, unshapely legs made it easier for him to switch positions, always eager to find new and exciting ways to make you reach your high. 

Whenever you came together, joined at the hip or mouth as you explored and discovered each other, you felt the same simple exhilaration you had felt as a child, visiting a new park or garden for the first time and uncovering all of its wonders. It was a sensation you hadn’t realised you had missed and, although you had been in a relationship once before, you had never experienced anything like this until Hoseok. Your job was satisfying and, all being told, you lived a good and fulfilling life but kissing him for the first time, in his apartment, had awakened and stirred that subconscious part you weren’t even aware you had been lacking. Perhaps that was why you had been so quick to let him have you completely. 

Lost in thought, you almost forgot the lasagne. Rushing to the oven, you grabbed a pair of grass-green oven mittens haphazardly and dropped the steaming bowl on the counter with a loud thud. The top layer was a little charred but, you thought, salvageable. Carefully, not wanting to push your luck, you dished the food onto two large plates and scooped a good helping of green salad onto each side. You closed the oven door and turned off the heat, watching the pillar of steam rise from the neat red and green bundle. You became lost once again in an uneasy jumble of thoughts and were only snapped back when the chime of the doorbell alerted you to the fact Hoseok had arrived. 

You blinked once, twice, turning your head to see his dark silhouette against the frosted glass. You began to leave the kitchen, meaning to let him in, before you found yourself turning on your heels and retreating. You pushed your palm against the black spring lid of the garbage can in the corner of the room and scooped the contents of both plates into the black bag. 

Opening the door moments later, you allowed Hoseok to side-step you into the hallway. His hair was red once more, as it had been the first time you spotted him in the park, and his accompanying grin was enough to make you feel dizzy and nauseous. 

“How was work?” He beamed as you closed the front door behind him. He was already walking into the adjoining living room, eyes darting across the unusually tidy dining table. “Where are your books?” He asked. 

“In the cabinet.” You answered automatically, not really hearing your words as you spoke. 

“Did you finish your marking already?” His voice inclined, curious. 

You nodded. Telling a lie, no matter how small, would usually leave you feeling guilty, but today you did not care. You joined him in the living room and found yourself sitting at the table in one of your mismatched wooden chairs, your head in your hands. Hoseok was busy telling you about his day as he strode around the room and it took him a moment to realise. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, bounding to your side. You didn’t reply and he pressed on. “Did you make the dinner?” 

“Yes…”

He looked around at the empty table, confused. “Where is it?” 

“In the trash.” You said blankly. 

There was a pause as a playful and slightly bemused grin crept onto his lips. 

“What?” He let out a breathy grin as he stepped into the doorway of the kitchen and opened the lid of the garbage can. Not realising you had risen until you were standing beside him, you joined him in gazing down at the still steaming pile of vegetarian lasagne atop a mountain of used teabags, dishcloths and carrot peelings. Hoseok blinked before looking at you. 

“What’s going on?” His expression slowly changed from one of amusement to concern. “Did you burn it?” He finished, innocently. 

You shook your head, although that was also not entirely the truth. You noticed how his gaze stayed steadily fixed on yours. He was hiding his guilt well and it frustrated the hell out of you. Instead, your eyes moved upwards to his freshly dyed hair. 

“Did your stylist do that?” You asked, chest aching. 

It took him a moment to realise what you were referring to before his lips curled up into a bright grin. “Do you like it? Jungkook suggested I change it before the Osaka show next month.”

His expression, so passionate and vivid, hurt to look at in light of what you knew. You stepped past him, not able to stand it a moment longer and flicked on the electric kettle, grabbing a colourful enamel cup from the wooden tree on the counter. Needing to do something with your hands to keep them from shaking, you reached into the cupboard to grab a box of peppermint teabags. You couldn’t help but notice he had not answered your question, so you pressed on.

“How long did it take?”

“About two hours.” He paused. “Why?” For the first time in the conversation, you felt he was beginning to suspect that you knew. 

“You must know her pretty well.”

“Of course I do.” He said. Without looking at him, you tried to read into his voice. Was this an admission? The kettle turned itself off as it boiled and you picked it up to pour into the mug. Suddenly, your hand started to tremor, the stress of the day coming to a head. The water spilled over the side of the cabinet and burned your bare feet. You let out a cry as you dropped the plastic device, jumping back just in time to avoid more damage. You barely registered the movement as Hoseok rushed forwards to pull you away from the spreading pool of steaming water until you felt his arms around your shoulders, holding you against his chest. 

“Nana? What is it?” He asked. Even in bare feet, you were the same height as him and, when he took your cheeks gently in his palms, you couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, you shook your head as a series of warm, stinging tears ran down your cheeks. 

“I knew this was all too good to be true.” You sobbed, your trembling hands finding his and lowering them to your sides, clutching them loosely. It hurt more this way, but there was a part of you which, even now, seemed unwilling to let him go. “I knew you were too kind and sweet and gentle to be real…and it turns out you are just like everybody else!” 

He seemed stunned at your words, his mouth parting to speak before he had formulated how to reply. You continued, unable to stop the words from streaming out now you had started. Feeling jealous of the woman in the photographs was something you could handle, but the humiliation of it all, of allowing someone to come into your life so easily after years of solitude and trusting him so explicitly with your heart and body was too much to bear. 

You let go of his fingers and clutched your mouth in dismay as your face crumpled. “God…I slept with you!” The realisation that you had practically thrown yourself at him the first time you met dawned on you and your cheeks burned. There had been several times since that first occasion, but the memory of him having you on his sofa, of him whining how tight you felt as you parted your legs and spread yourself for him, was suddenly the strongest. 

His eyebrows turned inwards as he gently clutched your shoulders steady once more and looked you full in the face. “What does that…” 

You interrupted, your tears finally drying on your cheeks. “And all this time, you were humiliating me behind my back…does she even know about me?”

Another pause. “Who?” 

“The stylist…whatshername…” You blurted. 

Hoseok took a moment to consider what you were saying before he shook his head. “Soo-yun?” 

You nodded and felt an unexpected wave of anger mix with your sorrow and embarrassment. He wasn’t taking you seriously. 

“You don’t believe that.” He said, the pitch of his voice raising once more, questioning rather than protesting. 

“I read an article…”

“Since when did you read gossip articles?” He asked, both bemused and baffled. You registered from his tone what he was getting at and your shoulders slumped a little as the first feelings of doubt began to creep in. Despite this, you persisted. The thought of him thinking you were too stupid to distinguish between fictional gossip and real reporting only added to your embarrassment. 

“It said you had confirmed a relationship with her.” You protested, a little weakly. 

He remained silent for a moment, his expression hard to read at first. 

“Nana…” He whispered. A moment of silence fell between you.

You realised he was looking at you with a mixture of empathy and understanding. He had been through this before, or something similar, growing so used to having lies written about him that he was blind to them and their effect on those around him. You clutched your face in your hands, your false accusation of his infidelity hanging agonisingly in the air between you. 

“Hoseok…” You finally murmured. “I…” You couldn’t finish. 

“It’s okay Nana.” He slowly pulled you back into him, silently cradling you. 

You let out a long, shuddery sigh. “I think I need a moment to myself…” You explained. While the reassurance of his arms around your shoulders told you that everything would be alright, for now you just needed an early night to reflect on what had happened. You slowly slipped from his embrace to look at him. His brown eyes were wide and expressive; Hoseok was truly an open book and needed you to be too, no matter how vulnerable it rendered you. If you couldn’t learn to trust him completely, you knew that ultimately this relationship would not work. 

He nodded and smiled gently. “Do you want me to come ‘round tomorrow?”

You nodded, holding his hand in yours as you led him through the living room and to the front door. “I think so.” 

He paused, hovering in the hallway. "Do you want me to cook next time?”

You grinned, despite yourself, remembering the mess in the garbage can. “That might be for the best. I’m not sure you’re ready to go vegetarian…”

Hoseok shrugged and leaned over to peck your cheek gently. “I might be. Make sure you eat something before you go to bed, okay?” 

You nodded as you let him out the apartment and into the cool dark of the evening. “I will.”


End file.
